Open to Interpretation
by VampireHunterExtraordinare
Summary: Eve has many qualities she hates in herself. Chief amongst them? She is a witch. Try as she might, she can't undo that, but an inconvenient knack for seeing people as they are and an unfortunate and deplorable caring personality might do more for her biggest problem than see could ever have guessed. OC/James Potter II. M for language.
1. Chapter 1 - Cowboy boots

Chapter 1

The letter sits, as it does every year, unopened on my desk. It's mostly covered by a huge old textbook that probably should not be allowed to leave the Bodleian, one yellowed corner poking out. It's been about two weeks since the letter had arrived, and it had had a nice first week moving about downstairs before making its way up, to remind me of my imminent return to reality. It really is no wonder that it 'accidentally' has remained hidden by textbooks, clothes and assorted rubbish for the past few days, a sort of last-ditch attempt to shelter myself from the truth.

I realise then that I was standing in my knickers staring at the one corner peeking out at me, and how crazy that would seem to someone else. I shake my head dramatically and slide into my jeans – burnt orange skinnies. Lovely. Rummaging in a precarious pile of clothes (clean, thank you very much) on the floor, I tip it over onto the littering of pages and force myself to think about the pros and cons of learning German over Spanish as I pick cat hairs from my favourite white lace t-shirt. Pro: sounds cooler. Con: less useful. Pro: Beer trumps wine every time (not that I know, hem hem, underage). Do NOT, under any circumstances, think about what is happening today. Con: There are literally no other cons, German is the way to go. Don't think about how it's the toe in the water of another frustrating year of purgatory. Pro: able to read so many original versions of research papers and stuff. Wait, scientists wrote in Latin for most of history. Shit. School won't be that bad, I've survived this far with the independent study, and I'd done well in my GCSEs without regular school, hadn't I? Pro for Latin: super sophisticated. Con: bit pretentious, perhaps? Pro: Dude, Latin. Come on.

What am I talking about? All I actually get from school is more questions than answers, second hand drama and ridiculous amounts of noise. Con: would literally be able to speak it to six people in the world, total. How is there so much noise? It's a bloody huge place, but somehow there are literally only a handful of places without noise pollution. Pro: Richer understanding of English and language as a whole. There's a huge added risk with frequenting Hogwart's most isolated places where lusty teenage morons are concerned. Con: who on earth would teach me Latin? Ugh, lusty teenage morons are in the top five of my list of most hated types of teenage morons.

I pull the shirt over my head and start to search for my brogues – lovely brown leatherette ones, like the kind John Green wears. I must make sure no one ever finds out that my fashion sense has three main influences: John Green (vlogbrother), Ted Moseby (character) and Carrie Hope Fletcher (it's-way-past-my-bedtime/actress). I also must stop coveting red cowboy boots. Absolutely under no circumstances can I go from nerdy teenage witch and wannabe mathematician to nerdy teenage witch and wannabe mathematician in red cowboy boots. I'll have to scrap the Latin idea, it would make the cowboy boots situation even worse (I know I will eventually get them, but I can pretend that I won't and be perfectly happy in that delusion but I know it isn't true).

Wait now, Arabic. Pro: Super useful, pretty writing. I have one shoe on and tied when I halt my search for the other momentarily to slip into my tweed jacket. I'm practising for when I'm a professor. What university will accept me? Can I put weird magic school on an application? Probably not. There must be some kind of code for it, though, or I could say I was home-schooled. Pro: would aid me in getting a job in MI5, MI6 or the army. No, I couldn't join the army, I'd ruin my cowboy boots in the desert. Stupid cowboy boots, messing up my plans. Fuck you very much, boots.

I swallow my pills and pocket the letter as I chuck the necessary items into my satchel, ranting about those bloody boots. They would know about them if I became a secret agent. That's the sort of embarrassing thing that comes out in background checks. Well, at least I have plenty of time to develop an interest in BDSM. Who am I kidding? The boots would still be infinitely more embarrassing than sexual kink. I don't use infinities lightly, you know. They're almost as big a pain in my hole as those FUCKING BOOTS.

Right, calm. At least few people in school would get the boots reference, and that would certainly add to my mysterious persona. Apparently once you dress like a crazy professor crossed with Grace Kelly (with Doc Martins. I feel like Grace Kelly would approve, somehow) you immediately become seen as odd. Perhaps it's Grace Kelly and Gene Kelly? That makes sense. He's probably where I get my awesome taste in brogues and blazers.

I practically skip down the stairs, because I'm clearly Gene Kelly reborn. I like him way too much. I need tap dancing lessons. Perhaps tap through Arabic? Not something that's offered, probably, but I certainly won't find classes for them, together or separately, at Hogwarts. It is definitely not a balanced education. Bane of my bloody existence.

My Dad makes his usual bad joke about wearing oxfords in Cambridge (I will NEVER call my brogues oxfords. I like brogues so much more, plus I, by default, hate Oxford for being more famous than lovely old Cambridge). I pretty much ignore him and shove the cat out the window while focusing intently on the awesome dance on the desk in _Singin' In The Rain._ Plonking myself down on the kitchen table, I bite down on an apple as I begrudgingly take the letter out. I look at it for a moment, considering the contrast between it and the other most important letter I had received over the summer, which is stuck proudly to the fridge. I wonder if my OWL results will replace my GCSE ones or will I just try my best to forget about them, like the rest of my Hogwarts letters.

My mother arrives in at that point and berates me for my breakfast. I don't bother explaining that eating whole raw fruit and vegetables is just so much easier, and the rarity of my being in the house means that we don't usually have the ingredients required to make good vegan breakfasts. Ah veganism. The greatest excuse for laziness I have yet to come across. Kate crashes into the room halfway through Mum's rant and throws bits of her breakfast at me as she picks at it. I ask her if a pig died just to be thrown at a nearby vegetablist. She retorts in kind and calls me a dork, which is fair enough, but it starts Dad off on a rant about us using Americanisms. It takes a huge amount of effort not to use 'dude' or 'awesome' around him, but that fleeting moment of satisfaction upon hearing the Queen's English adulterated in such a ridiculous manor isn't worth the rant.

It is a testament that Kate doesn't begin to rant about the history of the work 'dork'. She, like me and our other siblings, knows what she wants to be, though the shock that it isn't science almost killed the lot of us. Linguistics is, obviously, preferable to literature, or, heaven forbid, drama or fine art. I never asked for tap dancing lessons for a reason. Kate, subsequently, thinks herself less nerdy than the rest of us, because P versus NP doesn't give her a massive intellectual erection. The rest of us just fail to understand her satisfaction and sense of superiority over this fact. It probably helps prove her point.

The rest of us are science people. We live in Cambridge for a reason; my parents are academics. Dad is a geneticist, which is fairly soft core, since Mum's a mathematician, my brother Mark is doing post grad in quantum physics and the twins are undergrad in theoretical physics. Dorian (I know, great name ruined by Fifty Shades – it doesn't matter that he's called Christian, the surname Grey has now, by default, ruined Dorian for me. I'm glad Oscar Wilde didn't live to see me draw links between his work and porn) has a very unoriginal set of A-levels to sit this year (Maths, physics, chemistry, biology and psychology) and fully intends to study neuroscience, which is the most preferable in biological fields. I come next, Eve, as it must have seemed to my parents as though boys were all they were getting, and they were rightfully optimistic about proceeding children. I fully plan on full maths, though I thoroughly enjoy physics. I'm still the most nerdy, though, because I collect comic books and fancy stand ups more than actors and can talk my way through any episode of an embarrassing number of old sitcoms. Kate likes to annoy me by calling me a hipster, because I like old TV, old films and old youtubers. I like to tell her to go fuck herself. This once happened at some party thing in Peterhouse, my Mum's college, and I nearly gave an old Don a heart attack. He pretty much had a full on panic aneurism when he turned around and I was there, in my docs and a sex pistols t-shirt (It was that kind of day). That was the summer I had purple hair, too. We mustn't forget that.

Kate's only a year younger than me, which means she was an accident, because two years gap is standard fare for my parents. I admire their great aptitude for planning. I like to mention this to her when she annoys me. The standard reply is that I was such a disappointment that they decided to try again sooner. We are quite good friends, which is nice. I put that down to the existence of Damien, because if Kate were the youngest she would be an absolute nightmare. Damien is three years younger than Kate, which goes along with the original plan (Kate is the hitch). He turned eleven and didn't get a letter, which was a great relief to everyone, because it isn't a secret how much I hate the whole thing.

I finally open the letter, carefully peel the wax seal away in one and slide out the contents. That would have been fine, but the train ticket got stuck in the envelope and upon reaching in to get it, I stab my finger on something, leaving a red blot on the envelope. This annoys me so much that it takes me a moment to wonder what had pricked me. I upturn the envelope and a small silver badge falls out.

I stare at it, my finger in my mouth, like a moron, for a very long time.

"Eve," Kate is standing right behind me and I jump, causing the papers that had been in my lap to fall to the floor. She picks them up for me before continuing. "What are you doing?"

"I'm staring at the badge like a moron," I tell her. Accuracy is quite important to me.

"Um, why?"

"Because of the logical conundrum it presents. It means some idiot made me prefect." Kate found this hilariously funny but both parents made loud, approving noises.

I spend the brief exchange with Dorian, in which he expressed his dissatisfaction with being left on baby sitter duty, and the majority of the car journey to London watching a series of horrific and gruesome scenarios flash before my eyes, all possible outcomes of me being a prefect. Kate brings me from my thoughts by slapping me sharply across the face while we were stuck in traffic about fifteen minutes from the Leaky Cauldron, and I spend the subsequent twenty five minutes (ugh, traffic. Welcome to the list of things that have annoyed me today. Meet boots and lusty teenage morons) going over my letter and book list. That time is really spent despairing some more. Prefect. Perfect.

The first hour in Diagon Alley is uneventful. It's a routine we have perfected at this point; my family gaze around them and I trudge with a stormy face, pulling them to where we need to go. Then, in Madam Malkin's we run into Scorpius and his parents, which is fun, as I love him to bits and my parents don't have a clue what to say to wizards, plus they've been reading up on their wizarding history and they sort of know the Malfoy family history, so they are absolutely terrified. I realise that it sounds a bit insensitive, but when you've been involved in a conversation between Draco Malfoy, Scorpius and Albus Potter, you lose all respect for the Malfoy name. I think the innuendo world record must be held by Draco. I sort of want him to adopt me.

Scorpius and I then ditch our parents to find Kate, who had wandered into a junk shop. I make several mocking attempts to set Scorpius up with Kate. He didn't find it amusing, mostly because he fancies Rose so much it makes me want to cry, and I'm not even directly involved. It makes me glad not to be in their year, because not only do I get to play the age card, but I also get to avoid the sincere feelings. My year is all emotionless snogging and vague half-crushes, which, to be fair, usually end in emotionless snogging. Scorpius and Rose are so cute it would probably make me gouge my own eyes out if I was around it all day, every day. As it is, I mostly see them apart. I'm that kind of friend; the one you seek out and speak to one-on-one, but who doesn't really participate in groups.

He tells me about his summer, doesn't mention Rose directly and glosses over his week spent at the Potter household. If being best friends with Albus Potter is anything, it's exhausting. I know because I notice that sort of thing, plus Al himself is exhausted by Albus Potter, and they are the same person, sort of. Well, there's Albus, adorable and hilarious, and the there's Albus Severus Potter, son of Harry Potter and perfection personified. It's the being of Albus Severus Potter that takes up all of Al's time and energy. That's why Scorpius is so overwhelmed by the momentous task that is being Al's best friend; there are two layers to everything that happens, and if you aren't me (I have a weird knack), it takes a lot of effort to catch it all.

Scorpius also skirts over going to visit his grandmother, because he's ashamed that he sort of likes her. She used to be a Death Eater, so he thinks that he should hate her. He doesn't say any of this, but I see it, because I'm looking, because I like and respect Scorpius. When I like and respect people, I do what I can for them, and for that to happen I have to know what's going on. Scorpius also doesn't mention her because he knows she would disapprove of him being friends with me, in all my muggleborn magic-hating glory. He knows that I know this, so he doesn't bring it up, which he doesn't know has exactly the same effect of bringing it up. At least this way he doesn't think I'm uncomfortable, which I'm not, but he wouldn't understand that I think it's okay for his grandmother to think I'm a bad influence on him. I am definitely a bad influence on him, with my violent and revolutionary muggle ideas. He didn't find The Ramones by himself, I'll tell you that much.

He finishes telling me about Al's exploits and asks me about my summer, which I summarise in one sentence – exams, studying and binge watching tv – before breaking the prefect news. Good friend that he is, he laughs his way between Fortescue's and Amaneusis Quills, and good friend that I am, I don't tell him about the ice cream on his nose as revenge.

"You okay to be going back?" Hit the fucking nail on the fucking head right there, didn't he? I stop my refreshingly external rant about how pens are better than quills because I had forgotten how blunt little Scorpy can be.

"I… It's okay, I suppose. It just seems sort of pointless." He rolls his eyes.

"And that is what makes a good prefect; Contempt for the institution, the education and the entire universe."

"I'm beginning to consider demoting you on the friendship scale, Scorpy."

"Please, you wouldn't. I up the sex appeal of your friend group by about seventy per cent. You like balance, so you'd have to drop several not-good-looking people too. Plus you're a pervert, so you would never ever do that to me." That's fucking hilarious, because:

1\. My friends are the most ridiculously good looking group of people you can imagine. It's not even novel any more.

2\. Scorpius is so in love I no longer can see him as attractive. I know that he is, I just don't see it. At all.

3\. I am pretty asexual. I mean, I can acknowledge attractiveness, but only if I'm paying attention properly (read: rarely). I do fancy people, but it's based on personality and literally only happens with people I don't know, so mostly fictional characters and stand ups.

I let that slide because he didn't make a fuss of being called Scorpy, and laugh. I continue to laugh until I walk straight into someone in the doorway of Rosa Lee's teashop. That someone, it transpires, was a pretty grumpy James Potter, who curses at me and stomps off. He's weird that way; I know that he is sometimes happy, because I have seen him smile and laugh around school, but whenever he's by himself – which is when I properly pay attention to people – he is in a foul mood. Maybe it's me. It probably isn't; in my experience, it rarely is. People are too stuck in their own heads to let the presence of strangers affect them that much. I make note to observe him when I see him. It's pretty inconvenient that my friendships with a handful of Weasleys and Al make me want to look out for the rest of them a bit.

Scorpius and I have some tea and chat about the upcoming school year – he still has no plan to make a move on Rose. That's mainly what I gathered. In fact, he tells me as much so many times that I think he might be freaking out about it. I tell him the truth – they are fourteen. They have so much time. It's going to be fine.

On the way to Flourish and Blott's he tells me that usually, James Potter is pretty cool and makes lots of sex jokes, so I would like him. I doubt this, somehow, but I don't tell Scorpius this. He sometimes gets concerned for me because I don't have many friends in my own year. I almost tell him that my third shell of friends is almost entirely made up of fifth years, as well as my first shell, but I don't because me ordering my friends like electrons in my atom is weird, and he won't get it. I also don't have the heart to tell him he's second shell. I don't tell him that I am currently a noble gas (in terms of electrons. Krypton. I'm so weird. Jesus.) and that is nice and stable. I don't want to be an alkali metal because they are unstable, which is bad. I don't say any of this because I am crazy and I don't want him to think I will murder him. I wouldn't do that, it's illogical, and I like him.

We find our parents – mine hidden behind stacks of magical theory books, as I had expected, Scorpius's picking out his schoolbooks. We hug and part, and I don't see any other particularly familiar faces all day, save for James Potter in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, clearly still in a strop. I have to stop Kate from chatting up a random sixth year, and then I have to drag her away from Eeylop's Owl Emporium. She likes to criticize my choice to get a cat rather than an owl. She doesn't seem to grasp that once I finish at Hogwarts, I'll be back in the muggle world permanently, and an owl might be difficult to maintain.

She thinks I'm mental because she would love to be a witch. She would have been brilliant, too. She would have been a Gryffindor, I just know it, and she would have been best friends with Rose Weasley. I'm good at judging these things.

I quite like Diagon Alley, considering it's part of the magical world. It's absolutely crazy and head-wreaking but it's like some temperamental creature on the verge of mental breakdown; always changing, always surprising and barely together. I ponder that in the car home for as long as possible, before I start the dreaded countdown again. Four days and fifteen hours until the Hogwarts Express leaves. I watch twelve episodes of Supernatural in a row in an attempt to drown it out.


	2. Chapter 2 - Operation optician

**AN: Quick reminder this is set in 2020. If you forget that, not much makes sense.**

The drive to the station is spent fuming over the fact that the train goes non-stop from London to Hogwarts. It isn't logical. It pretty much goes the length of the country, so surely it would make sense for there to be stops for those of us who live in between? It makes no sense.

I'm really thinking about this because I want to distract myself from the knowledge that the next week will be awful. For some reason, my internet withdrawal symptoms get worse with every holiday. I don't see the logic behind this. That's not true; the logic is that I've been up for the past two sixty hours straight catching up on my tv shows. I like my old shows better, but they're finished, so I usually spend the first few weeks of the holidays re-watching them and reminiscing about the golden age of television (not that I was old enough to care at the time). Then I print off loads of fanfiction in a panic, to keep me going for the term, buy a load of books and despair for a few days. That's when the catch-up starts. I watch the remake of Smallville, a few vampire shows (don't judge, they're pretty good these days), a load of panel shows and sitcoms, and crime dramas. I like crime dramas way too much. My favourite is Criminal Minds, though I have no idea why because it's nowhere near as great as it was with the original cast. That really means 'I wish Spencer Reed was still in it, I ship him with JJ'. My usual rhythm of consuming constant media was disrupted by a two-day-long movie marathon of the highlights from the past few months, picked out by Kate and Dorian, hence the lack of sleep.

I have the prefect badge in my jacket pocket. I know that I need it, but I'm still happy in my state of denial. I stare at my tights and trace the swirls with my finger as I try to set myself onto a more healthy train of thought. I've been worried about James Potter. I hate that I'm so almost a Hufflepuff when I wish I was more Slytherin. It would be so much easier. I sort of wish I was a Gryffindor too, so I could be stupid enough not to notice how much better being a Slytherin would be. I don't hate Gryffindor; I just have a huge amount of contempt for most of them.

That's me, though; Ravenclaw — Ravenpuff, for all intents and purposes. It wasn't a surprise once I found out what the houses were all about. I can't help feel that it is the curse of the Ravenclaw to know that all we are to others is brains. We aren't into doing the right thing for its own sake, or being brave, loyal or honest, ambitious or cunning. These are all very admirable traits. Obviously we can still have some of these characteristics, buts it's always overshadowed by intelligence. I completely agree that ignorance is bliss, and I wish I was in another house. That is what being a Ravenclaw is; knowing that your intelligence is not a gift, so much as a giant huge burden. Perhaps I wouldn't mind being a witch so much if I was in another house. If I were a Hufflepuff I would give it a chance, accept the change and move on. In Gryffindor I would eagerly dive head first into this whole adventure thing. In Slytherin – the one I want most – I would simply make the most of it.

That's how I live my life these days, by asking myself 'What would Slytherin Eve do?'

I am accosted by Georgina Zabini around platform seven. Kate makes herself busy by giggling and flicking her hair at George's brother Peter while George hugs me and lets out a stream of words which seem to have no relation to each other whatsoever. All I hear after a second is the cursing of a crazy scot, which is a pretty good description for any speaking George does. Despite the fact that she is one of my best friends – first shell, along with Xander, who is probably on the platform by now with Scorpius – I make the conscious decision not to tell her about my new concern for James Potter. I stop thinking about it immediately to glare at Dorian, who should absolutely not be looking at my best friend that way. He is definitely not her type.

I do a very good impersonation of a happy person as I hug my family goodbye outside the barrier before pushing my trolley through. The fake smile stays plastered on my face. I think about how Scorpius is only second shell, but I actually talk to him about my feelings and all that. Perhaps it's odd that he is the only one in the wizarding world who ever hears how much I hate being a witch but I haven't promoted him. I note to fix that then I get into the dorms tonight.

I slide into an empty compartment with George right behind me. We sit and chat idly about the summer for a few minutes while peering out the window, searching for Xander and Scorpius.

My other first shell best friend is Alexandra Greengrass, Hufflepuff and cousin of Scorpius Malfoy. Somehow, they don't get along that well. Xander doesn't really get along with Slytherins, much the same way I despise members of my own house and most Gryffindors. George doesn't have that problem, because she's a Gryffindor, and when she's drunk or hungover anyone around is good for sleeping on and mooching food off. George isn't great at sobriety. She also isn't great at defying stereotypes.

I nod along and congratulate George for popping her cherry with a cute muggle girl. I don't really give a shit about this. I am really watching Rose and her family glance around, obviously looking for the Potters. They conclude that the Potters have yet to arrive and Rose starts towards the train, catching my eye through the window. She enters our compartment halfway through a telling of George's drunken summer escapades at her cousin's house in Italy and throws herself into the seat just inside the door.

"What's wrong, Weasley?" I pretend that George isn't talking and she stops pretty quickly with a sigh. She knows that concern is a big deal for me.

"Scorpius issues." That's nothing new. Though they both fancy each other and that, everybody but them knows, nobody says anything to either of them, under my instructions.

"Rose, have you ever considered that he's your best friend and you should just talk to him?"

"Yes. And I have come to the conclusion that it's a terrible idea. It would ruin our friendship."

Rose is what I call a Gryffinclaw. There are equivalents for Slytherin and Hufflepuff too. It's a term to describe people who could have been Ravenclaws if it wasn't for their stupid multi-faceted personalities. Rose, Scorpius (he's a Slytherin) and Alice Longbottom (Hufflepuff) all fall into this category. Albus Potter does not under any circumstances, on account of his being a ridiculously naïve moron.

The point is, usually a relationship between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin wouldn't work, because that makes for one very irrational and moronic party and one ambitious and self-interested party. However, once one claw suffix is added to either party, it becomes must more realistic. I have lots of theories about houses and dating.

Slytherins and Gryffindors really should not date within their own houses. Not even a Slytherclaw- or two- can make a double-snake pairing work, but if both are Slytherpuffs (I know of only three Slytherpuffs, so this is purely speculation) I reckon it could last. Gryffindors do have some hope if either or both parties are claws, but Gryffinpuffs can literally only date actual Ravenclaws and hardcore Slytherclaws, because they are generally disasters. Pure Hufflepuffs can date any claw, and Ravenclaws? Literally anybody.

It doesn't make much sense that Ravenclaws as a house get the least romantic action by far.

I look at the Gryffinclaw, worrying about her Slytherclaw and wonder how two such clever people could be so ignorant to the feelings of the other.

"It wouldn't ruin your friendship, you're too close for that."

"No, don't tell him," George interrupts, her story already forgotten. "You just need to gauge his reaction." I stare at her in horror.

"You don't mean a seduction, right?" She laughs at me, more than is appropriate given the situation.

"Well, not of Scorpius, at any rate." Rose joins me in my staring in horror. Nobody says anything, and George continues to laugh for a good ten minutes, until we are joined by Xander and Scorpius, both with pretty cloudy faces.

"What's going on?" Scorpius is clearly trying to forget whatever fight he and Xander had earlier.

"Rose has a crush and we're giving her advice." George says this so casually I almost forget who Rose's crush is.

"Oh?" Gauge the reaction; surprised and a little disappointed. Aw, so cute! "And what's the plan so far?"

"I think she should just talk to him about it," I explain, fighting very hard to keep the smirk off my face, "But George reckons making him jealous to see if he likes her is the way to go. Opinions, Scorpius, Xander?" Xander shrugs and hides herself behind Quidditch Weekly. Scorpius, on the other hand, pauses for a moment.

"The crazy plotting actually sounds pretty cool," He admits. Careful now, Eve. Plots never end well on tv.

"Okay, this is just a suggestion, so open minds please people, but what if you pretended to be her boyfriend?" Scorpius, Rose and George all stare at me. Now I know how George felt. "Just to make him jealous, I mean."

Rose and Scorpius both make spluttering noises and go red.

"Nobody will believe it," Rose finally protests.

"You'd be surprised," I look at Scorpius who is slowly turning purple.

"I mean, if you aren't comfortable—"

"Actually, it's kind of a great idea, because I have my eye on someone too, and it kind of kills two birds, you know?" Very nice, Scorpius. Smooth.

"I really wish I didn't know so much about that, Scorp."

"Shut up, Rico."

Rico is me, by the way, because my surname is Richardson and Scorpius is weird.

"So Scorpius," George looks so smug, she's going to ruin the whole plan. "Who you lovin'?"

"Top secret information. Sorry."

That was to be expected. As the train begins to move, Albus Potter falls into our compartment and onto Xander, who doesn't take the intrusion of her personal space very well and pushes him on the ground.

"Albus, sweetheart, you have missed some shit." I begin explaining the day's events but am interrupted by Scorpius before I can explain the plan of action.

"Eve, don't you need to be up with the other prefects?"

That caused an eerie silence.

"Thank you very fucking much, Malfoy."

I slip out of my jacket and grab the pin, which I put onto the end of my skirt before leaving them to discuss this development.

As you can imagine, I am pretty late. The head girl, Emma Wetherby, berates me for that and my inappropriate clothing, which is ridiculous. Just because my t shirt has the word fuck on it and my skirt is pretty short doesn't mean – well, I'm wearing tights. It's cool, right? Right.

I don't really listen to the meeting, which is fine, and Connor Featherstone (great name, disappointingly average personality), the other fifth year Ravenclaw prefect, fills me in as we make our way down the train. First years are easily scared, it's almost funny. I manage not to punch a smarmy Gryffindor sixth year for remarking that my skirt and yellow docs make me look like a prostitute, which is disrespectful to prostitutes, plus the black t-shirt with yellow writing goes perfectly with the black skirt, black tights and yellow boots. I have a brief but lovely chat with Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, but my okay day doesn't last because when I get back to my friends, an argument has broken out between Al and Xander (Xander is winning. Poor Al) and Rose and Scorpius are not looking directly at each other. I let Captain Jack Harkness out of his box and he curls up with Scorpius.

I think about the Scorpius and Rose plan for the rest of the day. I decide to call it Operation Optician, because the point is to make them see more clearly. I decide that the plan as Rose knows it – make Scorpius jealous in a ridiculously elaborate way – will be called Operation Tiger, because Richard Dawkins wrote once that DNA (of a tiger, for example) only wants to replicate itself, but does so in the ridiculously elaborate way of making a tiger. It takes a bit longer to name the plan as Scorpius knows it – make Rose fall in love with you by pretending to be her boyfriend and making her jealous – but I eventually come up with Operation Paradox. I'm not even entirely sure why.

I became so caught up in all these operations that I forget to keep an eye on James at the feast, meaning I don't get an idea of him with people. The way people act when they are in company, the things they bottle up and hide away, and the things they choose to share, is pretty fascinating and says a lot, so I note to have a look in class. I also note that I'm terrible at reminding myself of things, so mental notes might not be the greatest way to do things, but I definitely can't write that stuff down, because it is not healthy. I don't remember to sort out the order of my friends, either.

I do sit in the dorm, wide awake, mildly annoyed by four people's worth of sleep noises, reading a research paper. I don't really take in the information, though, because I'm thinking about James Potter again, listing all the possible things that could be wrong with him. Then I go off on the usual angst-filled tangent, wishing I didn't care.

The next morning I glance towards the Gryffindor table and, instead of the intended observing, immediately catch the eye of Albus Potter, who must be visiting. Albus immediately makes his way over and interrupts my mission.

"Who does Scorpius fancy?"

"Good morning to you too, sunshine."

"Come on, just tell me. Is it Alice? It's Alice, isn't it?" I raise one eyebrow.

"It's not Alice. You have nothing to worry about in that department. Asked her out yet?"

"It sucks that you can do that."

"Believe me, Potter, I hate it too." We sit in silence for a moment as I inch a plate of sausages away from me. The smell of meat is sickening. Albus thinks I'm moving it towards him and pretty much devours the lot while I try to not projectile vomit in his face.

"Albus?"

"Mmm?"

"Your brother. Is he okay?"

"You know James?"

"Obviously not, or I would be having this conversation with him."

"I dunno. Were your feeling senses tingling?"

"Either call them my spidey senses or don't call them anything. But yeah, actually."

"So go talk to him about it." Before I can explain that that would be really odd and creepy, Scorpius makes his grand entrance.

"What on earth are you playing at?"

"I have no idea—"

"The weird plot, Eve."

"It's called Operation Paradox."

"I'm not going to ask about that. What are you playing at?"

"Hey Al, could you piss off for a bit so I can explain several things to Scorpius that would embarrass him if other people knew them?" Al, to give him credit, did piss off, and took it pretty well.

"You are to be the best pretend boyfriend. You hear me? Then, when she gets her guy, he won't compare and she'll see you with someone else and get jealous. Understood?" Scorpius stood up and walked towards the Slytherin table muttering about crazy bitches under his breath.

James had left the great hall by this point so I get up, bringing a handful of grapes with me, and start to wander towards the greenhouses. I considered Albus and Alice Longbottom, and how that made perfect sense. I start to wonder how to incorporate that into Operation Optician, but I stop myself, because there is no way Alice would be okay with my meddling. It's one thing to help Rose and Scorpius, but Alice is an entirely different bag of cats. I distract myself by wiggling my toes in my docs and considering my outfit; black skirt, patterned tights, white shirt, Ravenclaw bowtie (I spend a day looking all over Diagon Alley and I was not disappointed) and blazer, because I like blazers, okay? I decide on which pair of tights to wear tomorrow and considered doing something other than a ponytail with my hair when I notice movement behind me. I'm sitting on the ground now, back against greenhouse four, and mostly obscured by the shadow of the Venomous Tentacula on the other side of the glass.

This is when James Potter trips right over me in a comical fashion and falls in a heap beside me.

"Hello." I say, because I am nice.

"Um, hello. What'cha doing?" He brushes himself off and sits beside me.

"I'm forcing myself to think about tights so I don't meddle in Albus's love life."

"Albus has a love life?"

"No, because I am exercising self-control. He even told me who he fancies this morning so it's proving quite difficult to avoid plotting."

"What are you, cupid?"

"Actually, kind of. Ask Rose or Scorpius next time you're talking to them."

"You see that two?"

"Literally everyone sees that, bar the pair of them and Al. It's ridiculous."

"And what are you doing for them?"

"They each think I'm helping the other realise their feelings. It's pretty epic. They each think the other fancies someone, so to help the other; they are going to pretend to be together. They are the going to get their pretend crush, make the other jealous, and hey presto." He didn't say anything for a minute, as you would have expected if this came out during your first conversation with someone.

"That's evil and brilliant."

"Thank you very much. What are you up to these days?"

"Not much. Quidditch stuff mostly."

"You captain yet?"

"Nope. Heard from Connor that you got prefect, though. Congratulations."

"You don't know me very well, but I will not make a good prefect. I am far to… immature and disinterested."

"You're disinterested in being a prefect but interested in Al's love life?"

"Al's love life is way more interesting and eventful, plus it matters to me, because Al matters to me. And I hope that if I get all my friends significant others they won't care so much about my whole thing."

"You're whole… what thing?"

"I have issues." That kills the conversation pretty quickly.

"I'm James Potter, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

"Eve Richardson. Nice to meet you too."

This is the point when Professor Longbottom, walking straight past us towards the next greenhouse, then walks backwards and looks down at us.

"This isn't going to be a thing, is it?"

"Pardon, Professor?" They both look at me in disbelief.

"Eve," James exclaimed, "have you not noticed that people use your hangouts for snogging?"

"Are you kidding? I thought that was because I like quiet places and snogging people like quiet places. I didn't think it was a cause-and-effect relationship."

"I thought you were the super-observant kid?" Professor Longbottom, I think you have grossly misunderstood me.

"I notice people and their feelings and stuff, but only if I'm looking. I don't notice much where snogging people are concerned."

Other students start to arrive, and our odd little conversation comes to a natural close, leaving me furious at snogging people in general. Again.


	3. Chapter 3 - Some death omens

"Why does the universe hate me?" Xander throws herself down onto the bench beside me. "Poppy Dowson. Can you believe it? What have I done to deserve this?"

"Are we talking about Poppy 'Super-Tits' Dowson?"

"When are we not? I didn't know someone could smell so good. And I swear her super-tits got bigger over the summer."

"Oh my god, Super-Tits got better tits?" George collapses on Xander's other side.

"Apparently so."

George dramatically seizes Xander by the shoulders. "Tell me everything. Now."

It turns out that Poppy, who is gay girl kryptonite, is Xander's new potions buddy, hence Xander's despair ("How am I expected to concentrate on stirring when I'm the one BEING stirred?"). I haven't figured out why Poppy is so much more appealing to girls than she is to boys – it might be something to do with the fact that her boobs are neither the biggest nor the most perfect in our year, but they are the best in the intersection of 'big' and 'perfect', and that's the sort of thing that girls notice. Or perhaps her mad whistling skills are an indication of some less innocent skills. I spent a long time thinking about it when I was paired with Poppy in Divination last year, and George and Xander spent the entire year trying to convince me to befriend her. They didn't account for the fact that I already have too many friends, judging by the lack of peace and quiet in my life.

This conversation carries on through break, which gives me some time to pull faces at Albus across the great hall. He is attempting to chat up someone who wasn't Alice, so it gives me a huge amount of satisfaction to make him squirm and look like an idiot. When he leaves the hall a few minutes early, I excuse myself and speed-walk after him.

"So," I say, linking my arm in his, "What's up?"

"Eve, why did you try to sabotage me? It was going well."

"I wasn't specifically trying to sabotage you. Who was that, by the way?"

"Poppy Dowson. Do you know her?" I snort.

"Know her? Both of my best friends fancy her. And I spent half of last year trying to predict her future." Albus stops walking.

"Do you think she's gay?"

"For you, Alby, I don't think it matters," I wink at him as I gently slap his cheek, "but I know that she's at least straight-ish. We had some chats last year. I know some things. And hey, if you want to, you have my full endorsement to have a crack at her, but I won't be held responsible for Xander and George, okay?"

"Yeah, alright. Do you think you could have another chat with her, and see what she thinks about me?"

"Absolutely not. Not involving myself."

"But you love involving yourself."

"Yes, but the best course of action for you is to do things yourself. Girls like that. It shows honesty."

"Right." He looks around. "Why are we here? I don't have Transfiguration now."

"I do, though," I unhook my arm and give him a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck in your endeavours, my child. Now, off with you!" Al turns and walks off to his class, rolling his eyes and muttering about crazy people. He's one to talk. Literally.

I am the first in class, as I usually am, and I sit right in the middle. As the room fills up around me, I list some things I need to get for Kate in Hogsmeade (she has developed a taste for wizarding sweets) and things I would like her to send me. The room is full even before the bell rings, and just as it starts to go off, our teacher bursts in and immediately begins to talk.

When Professor Teddy Lupin speaks, there isn't a sound in the room. The back rows stay quiet out of fear, as he is sharp tongued, and treats whispering like heckling. Another chunk of it is the fact that he is incredibly attractive, even though he never looks quite the same. Today, for instance, his tightly fitted shirt and flattering jeans give quite a view to the first two rows of the class, where almost all of the girls sit up straight, attentive. The middle of the class stays quiet for the third reason – Professor Lupin cares. His excitement at his own lessons mean that he never stands still for more than a split second, and the information comes spilling from him like a wave. I don't know how it works for non-claws, but for us, his mile-a-minute style is a glorious ray of sunshine.

Today, he rattles on about vanishing spells so fast that the furious scratching of quills is like accompaniment to his melody line. I write only every now and then, because I read my way through the entire fifth year syllabus in third year when my supply of physics books ran out and my parents stopped Kate from sending me more because I should 'focus on my actual schoolwork'. They don't seem to know how lucky they are that their children are interested enough in quantum mechanics to stop caring about having magical powers. Instead of dwelling on this, I bask in the smugness brought on by the lovely ballpoint in my hand instead of part of a bird.

The best thing about Professor Lupin, in my opinion, is that he knows more than I do, which is more than can be said for most teachers I have come across. Not only that, but over the next few lessons, new things will come to the forefront of his mind, and he will come out with so much that it will make me question that he is human at all. He talks for twenty minutes straight, without hesitation, repetition or deviation, and then suddenly stops in his tracks, almost mid-sentence.

"Wands out!" He declares, flinging his arms up. A cloud of slugs flies from a tin on his desk and separates out until slimy invertebrates are flung to each student.

As the sound picks up in the room, I look down at the little brown lump in front of me. Ordinarily, at the end of each lesson, Professor Lupin returns all transfigured animals to their original forms, but you can't do that with vanishment. If it's gone, it's gone. I am aware of everyone else chanting and waving their wands, but I don't lift mine from the table. Instead, I look at the slug, and watch its head move around as I try to think up any way around this.

"Miss Richardson?" I jump. Professor Lupin is beside me, one purple eyebrow raised.

"Sir?"

"Are you going to vanish the slug? I wouldn't expect you to run into any difficulty."

"I don't want to, sir."

"You… you don't want to?"

"No sir. I go out of my way not to kill things."

"Err, right. Talk to me after class."

I'm not sure why I'm surprised, but I am. Perhaps it's because Professor Lupin didn't consider vanishing as killing, or because he seemed surprised that it would occur to me.

He looks uneasy after class. I sit on a desk in the front row in silence until the last girls leave, and he leans back on his desk.

"So, what's the problem, Eve?"

I take a deep breath before answering.

"I can't kill things, sir."

"I… right. But you need to be able to vanish things."

"Why would I need to vanish something living? There are a thousand better things I could do to it without removing it from existence."

"But if your examiner asks you to vanish something, what will you do?"

"Refuse."

"And lose the marks?"

"Yup."

"Right." We sit in silence for another minute.

"I probably shouldn't just let you opt out of a section of the curriculum. I'll have to talk to the Headmaster about this, to see if there's some other way of doing things."

"Yes, sir."

"I suppose you can go, then, Miss Richardson."

"Thank you, sir." I leave, and walk straight into the Headmaster in the doorway, banging my head on his chin.

Harry Potter and I have never been in such close contact before. Thank god I spend so much time with Albus or it probably would have freaked me out. I apologise as I rub my forehead, and he apologises while rubbing his chin, and then stops, and looks down at me.

"Are you the girl that James accuses Albus of fancying?"

"God, I hope so, sir. Then I can have the last laugh when I marry him off." Harry freaking Potter laughs at my joke. I am going to be writing a very frantic letter to Kate later.

"I didn't get your name, Miss -?"

"Richardson. Eve Richardson."

"I'm sure that reference goes over a lot of heads, Eve."

"It does, sir. I still do it every time, but I just sound like a pillock. Oh, that was a bad word. Sorry sir."

"That's alright. Could you excuse us, Eve? Professor Lupin and I have some things to discuss."

"Yessir. But is there a way I could make an appointment to come and see you sometime, regarding the instalment of Wi-Fi in the Ravenclaw tower?"

"I suppose so. I'm not sure if it's possible to do, but if we try hard enough, I'm sure internet is achievable. It's pretty much actual magic."

"That is incredibly true. Thank you, sir. Goodbye." This time my exit goes well, and I sprint to the Great Hall. I seize Albus by the arm and drag him to the Ravenclaw table.

"I need you to tell me everything about your dad. How do I make him fall in love with me enough to help me with a crazy plan?"

"You want me to help you get my Dad to fall in love with you?"

"Oh, you know what I'm getting at."

"I do?"

"Yes. Everyone I befriend falls in love with me a little bit. That's why you all put up with my whole thing."

"Right." Al's face does not agree with him.

"Maybe I should get this information from your brother instead. You know, we had a lovely little chat this morning, I think I might be able to upgrade my Potter -"

"Okay, fine. Here's everything you need to know."

*Line Break*

As lunch draws to a close, I get up to leave the Great Hall and meet Super-Tits in the doorway.

"Hi, Poppy! How was your summer?"

"Great, actually. I went to visit my cousins in America, it was fun. You?" We fall into step together as we ascend the castle towards Trelawney's dusty lair.

"Yeah, good, I just chilled at home. What's new with you?"

"Not much. I saw several omens of death, so this year should be interesting."

"Don't worry, I've got your future back. I'll be on the look-out for crows and candles."

"Oh, Eve, if only those were the worst of my problems. I swear I saw a grim last week."

"Poppy, a grim is a dog."

"Yes, but I know there isn't any dog where I live that's the size of a tiger and completely black. And it didn't make any noise when it moved, and I was in a forest, so I should have heard it."

"Uh, Poppy?" We reach the foot of the winding staircases up to the Divination tower and pause. "Do I want to know why you were in the woods?"

"I was walking my neighbour's dog, thank you very much. They were away for a few days and I made quite a profit looking after it." She was a dozen steps up before I bound after her.

"It can't have been a grim. The dog would have reacted in some way. Unless grims are weird ghost things that dogs can't see, which seems far-fetched."

"We are having a conversation about death omens right now."

"Oh, shut up."

"I get your point though."

We fall into comfortable silence as we continue up the stairs. The weeks of sitting inside in the dark come back to me as I start to pant. Poppy lightly mocks me, which reminds me why I quite like her. She's just lovely.

We sit together again, and don't mention any omens to the crazy professor (Trelawney takes all the fun out of the idea of being a mental professor. Shitheads like me need excuses to buy novelty glasses, and she is ruining it, god dammit) and have fun reading each other's tea leaves. I am going to have big changes in my life, both for the better and for the worse, and love is nearer than I expect it. That's nice to know. Poppy is less fortunate, and will not be going near the lake in the foreseeable future.

Poppy and I make our way outside for Care of the Magical Creatures after Trelawney lets us go, and as we descend the inexplicably rickety staircases of the castle, Poppy practically proposes to me. In a friendship way, I mean.

"Hey, Eve?" That is how a large chunk of important conversations in my life start, believe it or not.

"Yes, Pop?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Albus Potter. Are you… you know…"

"Very close friends? Yes. Otherwise, no. Now I am obliged to ask why."

"Um. Well, I mean, I was talking to him earlier and it was really nice. He's sweet. And also quite attractive. It was weird though, it was going well and then he started looking over my shoulder and acting really oddly. He barely said goodbye before he all but ran away from me."

"Ah. Right, well, I might have had a hand in that."

Poppy finds the whole situation quite amusing, but quickly draws the conversation back to me and Albus, and our relationship.

"So you never? Or did you think about it?"

"Nope. Not my type."

"What is your type, exactly?"

"Well, I have a thing for quick-witted and suave demon hunters. Those are always good. Also nerds in sitcoms from the noughties, youtubers with fringes and literally anyone who appeared on Mock the Week in its first fifteen years."

"I don't know what Mock the Week is."

"Comedians. I meant comedians."

"I literally cannot think of one attractive comedian."

"Have you ever seen Russell Howard? Do you even own a television?"

"He's, like, forty."

"Do I look like I care? It's not like I'm ever going to have an opportunity. But if I did, I would absolutely have sex with him. That's what I'm saying." There is a moment of silent mutual agreement.

"So you don't fancy anyone you actually know?"

"Nope."

"Just at the moment, or, you know…"

"I don't think I've ever fancied someone I actually have met. But I suppose I wouldn't notice if I did, probably."

"Err, okay."

"Are we nearing the part where you tell me you like Albus and ask me if he has said anything about you?"

"I would have gotten there eventually."

"Of course, dear. I'm sorry but I can't divulge any information I may or may not have. It's the same principal that will stop me from telling Albus, or anyone else, that you like him, so be grateful for it."

"Okay. Should I ask him to Hogsmeade?"

"That's a long time away. You could just hang out. Talk. Do something. Not that. Well, I suppose you can if you want, but I am not to be blamed if it backfires."

"I'm not going to have sex with him!" Unfortunately for Poppy, this is the moment we join the already gathered group of people who weren't stupid enough to take divination, and literally everyone looks up at the mention of sex, because they are all fifteen. I decide ignoring them until they go away is the best course of action. That is my usual policy for lusty teenage morons.

"I don't care at all if you do or not, except I hope you don't because I will never hear the end of it from literally everyone I know."

"You will be explaining that statement later."

"There isn't much explaining. I am a plotter. I plot. It will be assumed that I orchestrated it, and then everyone will want it. I don't have time to get all my friends laid, Poppy. Most of them are assholes."

"Would these be your friends, meaning half of my family?" James had managed to break off from the cluster to join us, and I only notice when he actually speaks.

"Yes, James."

"You cannot let Al have sex. My mother will find out somehow, and I'll get blamed for not protecting him from the evils of desire. It is too early in our friendship for you to cause my murder."

"We are friends?" He looks quite puzzled. It makes his jawline look like Captain America's. Actually, it probably always looks like that and I just haven't noticed.

"Yes, we're friends. I can't believe you would question that." He seized my shoulders and became so dramatic so quickly that I begin to suspect it is a family trait. "Did the greenhouse mean nothing to you?!"

"James, my love! Of course it did!" I cup his cheek and mirror his tone of voice. I think about how awesome I am, and how great this situation is. It's like every conversation I have ever had with Al, if he played along. "But we can't be together, our families won't allow it!"

"Oh, darling, it matters not. My love for you is true, and I simply could not bear to be without you for one more moment!"

"But sweetheart, you are engaged to be married!"

"I feel like the third wheel here, guys." Poppy seems half amused and half intrigued.

"Poppy, who do you think he is engaged to? Now shut up and pretend to slap me."


	4. Chapter 4 - Pack dynamics

I spend dinner picking at my peas and re-reading a journal about the nature of dark energy, which, after a long day of talking to people, is lovely. At least, it was lovely, until I am dragged to the dungeons by Scorpius, who is panicking. Unfortunately for him, Albus beats us there, so we have to casually pass the tie discussing Poppy's tits in great detail. Scorpius hasn't even noticed them, which gives me even more to think about, regarding the differences between the tastes of straight boys and gay girls. Neither Albus nor Scorpius show any interest in this whatsoever, and revert to Quidditch-related nonsense. They are right in the middle of arguing over just how badly the Cannons will do in the coming year (it's nice to know some things never change) when there is a booming shout across the common room.

'Potter, no one minds you bringing your 'claw girlfriend down here, but for Merlin's sake, could you not attract Gryffindors?' It is unmistakable voice of Charles Rosier, owner of the hottest voice in Hogwarts. That is his only redeemable quality.

'I'm not his girlfriend. If we were together, he would absolutely be my boyfriend, not vice versa. Surely you, as an omega, would recognise another of your kind, Rosier.' Rosier chooses not to reply, I suspect because I have confused him, and also because I terrify him. A lot of purebloods think I am a sociopath. I love that rumour.

Albus, who had gotten up to let the Gryffindor in question in instead of retorting, reappears a second later with none other than his brother in tow.

'Hey babe,' James collapses beside me quite dramatically before placing an impressively repulsive kiss on my cheek.

'Hello darling.' I wipe my cheek on his shoulder and lock eyes with Scorpius, who has one eyebrow raised.

'Are you being a cat right now?' Albus says as he returns to his seat on my other side. I swing my legs over his lap and lie back onto James.

'There was a huge amount of spit on me. There are only so many Potter germs I can take in one day, Al.'

'What other Potter has been giving you germs?' James stares down at me in horror. 'Does our love mean nothing anymore?'

'I've been having an affair with your mother.' James gasps, and Al splutters in actual horror. I close my eyes as Scorpius starts.

'So when did this happen?'

'More words, Scorpy.'

'Your friendship.'

'This afternoon.'

'You're breaking my heart, here, Evie,' James interrupts. 'What about this morning?'

'Absolutely not.'

'Yeah, James, you'll learn soon enough that you don't get to have a say. Eve is in charge of everything all the time.'

'Is it time for me to explain the pack system again?' I open my eyes to see Scorpius' face.

'Oh Merlin, please no.'

'Again? When did it happen the first time?' Albus says.

'I'm alpha female. It's really that simple.'

'That's absolutely ridiculous.'

'Albus, my love, everything that happens in our little group happens on my terms.'

'I'm pretty sure that's complete bollocks.'

'That's because you're a cub, you're in your rebellious phase.'

'I – what? We're cubs? Seriously?'

'There is no we. There is only you. You and George's Alcohol Goblin.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Sorry James. George's Alcohol Goblin is strictly top secret. You haven't proven yourself to the alpha, so you don't get to know.'

'How has George not told me about her Alcohol Goblin?'

'When would she have?'

'We are friends when she's drunk,'

'Ah.' The conversation hits a natural lull, and then –

'Poppy Dowson's tits. Thoughts, James?'

I eventually fall asleep draped across the Potter boys, and when I wake up, I am halfway across the castle with a face full of dark hair.

'What time?'

'Almost ten.' I groan into James's shoulder. He giggles like a little girl.

'You're in, you know.'

'Huh?'

'You're in my pack now.'

'I heard something interesting this morning.' Xander sits down and rests her back on the edge of the table, scanning the hall behind me.

'Good morning.'

'For some more than others.'

'I don't want to know.'

'If she doesn't want to know, I definitely do,' George sits the same way Xander is on my other side.

'Sometimes I feel like you two are my cartoon sidekicks.'

'So, Poppy Dowson told me this morning that James Potter arrived back to the tower at half ten, complaining because a certain arsehole is hard to piggy back when they are asleep.'

'Why am I only hearing about this now?'

'If you spoke to people, George, they would tell you things.'

'Anyway, George, the important part of this is when the fuck was Xand talking to Poppy?' George and I both turn towards her in our seats to face Xander properly.

'She was walking behind me this morning, called me to wait up and then inquired about the nature of your relationship.'

'Who's relationship?'

'You and James.' I freeze.

'Oh god no. No, no, no.' I jump up and climb onto the bench to get a better vantage point.

'Nice underwear, dude.'

'Real people will be would be annoyed by your pervy ways, George.'

I spot Poppy sitting very close to James, talking with very serious faces. This is confusing, as it is clearly not flirting. I have no idea what this is. I jump down like a badass and march towards them.

'JAMES.'

'Don't hurt me.'

'What kind of – ugh, it doesn't matter. We gotta go for a walk before muggle studies.'

'Neither of us do muggle studies.'

'Not relevant.'

'Eve, do you ever have a meal that doesn't end dramatically.'

'Not recently,' I avert my attention to Poppy, smile spreading across my face, 'I'll see you in Div, though?'

'Yes. This is the part where you leave, James.' The bewildered expression falls from his face as he begins to gather his things. I don't speak again until we are two floors up.

'Poppy is reserved.'

'She what?'

'Another member of the pack is in the middle of maybe starting something with her.'

'Why is that my business?'

'Because of Al.'

'Al likes her?'

'I cannot answer that. I can say that she seems to be expressing interest in both you and your brother.'

'Weird. Actually, no. We look quite similar.'

'James, I am about to tell you something that must stay between us.'

'That is the single scariest things anyone has ever said to me.' I roll my eyes.

'There are some girls in this school who like the idea of a Potter.'

'Shit. And you think Poppy is one of those?'

'I don't know, but I have put way too much effort into the Potter Defence League to let one slip through now.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I spend a chunk of my time protecting Al from assholes. You're in there too. You're welcome.'

'So many questions.'

'I doubt I will answer many of them.'

'Who?'

'No. Most of them get reformed, so I protect their identities.'

'We'll return to his later. Poppy isn't one of those people.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes.'

'Okay.'

'Are you really going to take my word for it?'

'Yes.'

'You're going to blame me if anything goes wrong.'

'Yup.'

In Arithmancy I finally get back to my grand plans, and write notes to Scorp and Rose, which I distribute like a spy between classes. I occupy my mind draughting my best man speech and coming up with cute baby names. As I am not allowed to be left to my own devices for more than a few hours, Albus resurfaces at lunch and sits beside me, very quietly, for about ten minutes before I get curious.

'What's up?'

'I asked Poppy to hang out at the weekend.'

'And?'

'What do you think?'

'Oh.' I return to my soup, but catch his hand in mine.

'You never really thought anything would come of it, did you?'

'How to you reckon?'

'You were happy, but you weren't excited. I'm not a complete idiot; I know how you roll.'

'I know. Don't underestimate being thought of as an idiot, though. It's one of the best disguises.'

'That doesn't make me feel any better.'

'Not right now. Someday it will matter. And, by the way, I am excited for you. I'm just not getting too involved right now.'

'Who?'

'No way. I'm not getting involved for the best.'

'You are the worst person.'

'I love you too.' I kiss him on the cheek in a nice way, rather than in my usual sarcastic way.

'Am I really a cub?'

'Yup.'

'Ugh.'

'Thank you.'

'My brother fancies you by the way.'

'Don't be daft. Could you imagine?'

'The most annoying children ever.'

'I mean, he has a nice jaw. And eyes. And he's fun and hot.'

'I feel sick.' I laugh into his shoulder.

'Al, dearest, I haven't even begun.'

'Oh no. Can't you go back to making innuendos about Teddy?'

'This is so much more fun.'

'You destroyed my innocence. All of it, it's your fault.'

'That's not the only thing I'll destroy.'

'Are you talking about having sex with me? With your penis?'

'You don't know I don't have a penis.'

'I'm pretty sure it would have come up at some point.'

'Yes it would,' I wink.

'I walked into that one.'

'I was going to say something, but it makes absolutely no sense.'

'When has that ever stopped you before?'

'Is what I would say when you find my penis.'

'Merlin. Is what you'll make me say, I know.'

'You're ruining my fun.'

'Our hypothetical sex life is fun for you, is it?' I smile as suggestively as I can at him. 'Disturbing. Let go of my hand, I don't know where it has been.'

'I know where your hand has been.'

'Where has his hand been?' Rose's voice floats in from behind us.

'On his dick. Hey Rosie.'

'Hey. Got your note. Is it not a bit soon?' We both ignore Al, whose head is now in his hands.

'No, it isn't. Do you not want to do it?'

'Of course I want to.' She blushed slightly, and I almost squeal with excitement.

'I don't want to know about your sex life.' Al sounds so miserable that I feel sorry for him. I get over it in about a millisecond.

'Are you sure? It's pretty hot.' He groans loudly.

'Aw, you're going to break him.'

'If I were going to break him, I would have done it by now. That kind of works on two levels.'

Al raises his head again. 'What is the other level?'

'When in doubt assume it's penises.'

'Why am I even friends with you?'

'Because I'm hilarious and you love me.'

'Right.'


	5. Chapter 5 - A stabbing

**A/N: Hi everyone! I just want to say that any feedback is greatly appreciated, and regular updates are coming from now on. Enjoy!**

'Can we cut to the chase please?' I raise my eyebrows at the pair of them disapprovingly. They both look back at me with fear in their eyes.

'Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all.' Scorpius says, turning his attention to making his fringe as vertical as possible.

'Malfoy, for goodness' sake, I expect more from a Slytherin.'

'That's house-ist.'

'And you're a dumb ass. Now for fuck's sake, kiss that girl.' His eyes flick back to me, widening in what I can only assume is meant to be puppy eyes.

'No, Eve,' Rose interjects, flattening her hair over her reddening ears for the third time, 'I agree. We really don't need to be –'

'Okay, how are you two planning on making this fake relationship work if you can't even kiss each other? Huh? And what will happen when a part of the plan involves kissing and you two are being childish and embarrassed about it? I need you comfortable in this aspect of your relationship, God damn it.'

'When exactly were you planning to mention that snogging will be an integral plan of whatever insane plan you have?' Scorpius's face was slowly turning the colour of avocado flesh.

'I really don't know what you were expecting, Malfoy. Literally every plan I have ever come up with has involved snogging.'

'But… but I'm not the one who does the snogging!'

'Are you sure about that? I think Rebecca King would beg to differ.'

'I was just doing her a favour! We weren't even friends! We were paid in whiskey!'

'Scorpius, I have ten minutes before I need to be at prefect bullshit. Can we get this over with? All I am asking for is ten seconds, closed mouths.'

'It's not the details I'm worried about, it's more the -' And that, my friends, is when Rose spins around, grabs Scorpius by his tie and kisses him smack bang on the lips. I watch Scorpius's face turn a light pink as he rests his hands on her waist and she lets go of the tie. When she breaks away after a few seconds, he looks as though he has been smacked in the face.

'Is that what you were looking for?' Rose smirks, her Weasley smugness coming through.

'Perfect on your end. Scorpius, sweetheart, maybe don't seem so shell shocked the next time.' He looks back at me without changing his expression. 'So you two are going to stay here and snog for the next fifteen minutes.'

'Wait, what? You said that we would only -'

'I also told you that you can download food from the internet. Weasley, you're in charge. Have a lovely time and I'll need to speak with both of you tomorrow. Here, same time.' I spin on my heal and leave the empty classroom as Rose leads Scorpius to a desk and sits up on it, grabbing his shoulders and kissing him again.

I am put in such a good mood by my own meddling that I'm not that bothered by the thirty minute prefect meeting. Afterwards, on my way to the dungeons to see Al, I fall into step beside Alex Flint, with whom I had previously never spoken.

'Well that was pointless.' Simple boy, this one.

'Yup.'

'So you coming to our common room?'

'Also yup.'

'Potter or Malfoy? Or both?'

'Potter today. I literally have just been with Scorpius. I've not seen Al since lunch, and I have important doodling to do on his homework.' Alex grins down at me. He must be six foot two, maybe more; a full foot above me. Also very pretty. Seriously, gorgeous blue eyes, tousle-y hair, the whole shebang.

'You're pretty funny.'

'I'm lots of things, man.'

'I know a short-cut to the dungeons from up here, if you want to come with me.' He holds out an arm and I swear to god my brain's first few layers were all screaming about his bloody eyes.

'Of course. Lead the way, good sir.' I loop my hand through and smile my 'I'm a nice person' smile. He leads me down a corridor adorned with some of the ugliest tapestries I have ever seen in my life, into a broom cupboard, through the back of it and down a little staircase before he says anything else.

'So how was your summer?' I can't help the scowl that comes out automatically. He looks kind of downtrodden.

'Sorry, it's just that's everyone's go-to for small talk and there is no interesting way to say that I marathoned shows I've seen a million times already looking for subtle clues as to who would end up together after the show ends.' He laughs again.

'I understand. Have you seen Parks and Recreation?'

'Yes, I have taste.'

'I'm sure. My muggle neighbour got me hooked and I end up rewatching it all every time I get home.'

'Our struggle is real.'

'You've gotta be a Leslie, right?'

'Yes, but my life's ambition is to become Jean Ralphio.'

'I don't think you could be mean enough.'

'Oh, Alex, flattery will get you nowhere. Besides, I'm working on being more selfish, so I'm getting there. You must be an Andy, right?'

'Thanks. Don't tell anyone, my Slytherin reputation will be ruined forever. Is it weird that I want Ann and Tom together?'

'Absolutely not. I have heard the case made that Ann should have gotten with Ron.'

'That's just weird.'

'To you. Not to several very passionate Tumblr users.'

Alex's shortcut lived up to expectations, as all of a sudden we are at the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

'Paisley tablecloth,' we say in unison, and continue down our final staircase. I make a beeline towards Al in the corner, and collapse onto the table in front of him.

'You'll be in pain if you lay like that for long.' Al nudges my arm out of his way and continues with whatever he was doing. 'And then I'll have to listen to your tit pain whinging. And then I'll hate you forever. So roll over.'

'What is _happening_ to me?' I moan into Albus's herbology textbook.

'You are getting vaguer with age.'

'I swear to god, I'm turning into a YA girl.'

'And?'

'That's lame. So, so lame.'

'I didn't know you were capable of having negative thoughts about yourself.'

'It takes a lot. This is a big deal. I've surpassed my usual angst levels and now I'm literally swooning.'

'What does a literal swoon look like?'

'Internal insanity over physical appearances.'

'Well isn't this great! We are all expanding as people. Roll over.' I roll onto my back. 'Was that really so hard?'

'The ceiling of your common room freaks me out and I don't like looking at it.' Al glances up.

'What's wrong with it?'

'What's right with it? I think this might be your angle, by the way. I can see Weasley height really working for you.'

'As nice as that is to hear, I am still going to ask about the swooning.'

'Please no.'

'Who?'

'Your mum.'

'Eve, seriously. I tell you my stuff.'

'I'm not used to having stuff. Alex is super pretty.'

'Flint? He plays quidditch against James.'

'Nice.'

'What? You have ranted loudly and publically about how dumb quidditch players are.'

'Well James is cool. Also, I don't know if you know this, darling, but often, athleticism makes people physically attractive. Case and point: have you literally ever seen a superhero film?'

'I'm not answering that question. Alex would absolutely be down for a no feelings snogging arrangement.'

'That might be the most useful information you have ever given me.'

'Your ass is on my notes. I need them.'

'I pretty much have a Sherlock memory.'

'How do you spell 'mimbulus mimbletonia?''

'Autocorrect.'

'Useless.'

'Just write loads of 'm's and do some squiggles between them.'

'You would murder me. Move.' I lift my backside off the table.

'What on earth are you doing?' Poppy is standing at my feet, hair plastered to her head.

'Something more sensible than being outside when it could rain at any time.'

'You want to do Divination homework?'

'I'm not charming the damp away for you. Go get rid of that first.' She smirks and heads to her dorm.

'So you guys are friends now? Properly?'

'Kind of, Al. You won't be usurped anytime soon, don't worry. Is it cool if we sit with you, or do you want to be left alone?'

'I suppose you can sit here if you minimise awkward jokes.'

'Deal. So have you seriously never seen a superhero movie?'

'You're about to suggest a marathon, aren't you?'

'Over Christmas break or when we get internet connection, whichever comes first.'

'How many films are there?'

'A shit ton and they're all awesome.'

'Can I have a number?'

'About fifty. Not exaggerating. Also tv shows.'

'You have OWLs this year, there is no way there's going to be time for that.'

'You overestimate how little I care about exams, and how much I love superheroes. Have you even seen Captain America? That's the stuff sexual awakenings are made of.'

'Poppy, perfect timing, she's just started fantasizing about superheroes. She's your responsibility now.' Al pushed me from the table and I rolled onto the chair opposite him – the chair Poppy has just sat down in.

'Maybe you should get Weasley height too, Poppy.' Poppy looks down at me with an eyebrow cocked.

'Is that a euphemism?'

'She's referencing something from before you got here.' Al's eyes flicker up at me as if to remind me of the agreement I had just made.

'Sorry, Pop. Is managing to be attractive from below a Slytherin thing, per chance?'

'I'm not sure. I don't spend a huge amount of time looking up at people.' As comfortable as being awkwardly splayed across Poppy's lap was, I struggle to get myself upright and fall back onto the table. They both look at me as I look between them, and I admit defeat and settle on the table, facing Poppy.

'So what exactly was our divination homework?'

'Essay on fertility omens.'

'Jesus wept. Right. Bears, pigs and rabbits. Is that enough?'

'I think we might need to flesh it out a bit, yeah.'

'Right, well, in Norse mythology, it was said that – mother of FUCK, wank off Trevor Noah in a hot air balloon, what was that?' I feel a sharp pain in my side and curl into a ball, and Albus flings himself away from me, sending his quill flying across the room. We stare at each other for a few seconds.

'Who's Trevor Noah?' He says finally.

'Who's – is that really the part of this you've decided to focus on? What just happened?'

'I may have accidentally stabbed you.'

'You better hope I'm feeling kind, boy.'

'I was trying to draw and smiley face on your shirt and it went badly.' I slowly uncurl myself and look down at the shitty smile and single blotted eye on the cotton, ink mixing with the small drops of blood seeping from my stab wound.

'I can't believe you stabbed me. Is it weird that I'm a bit proud?'

'Probably, yeah.'

'Great,' I peel my shirt up to check the damage. 'Ah, it'll be fine. But I owe you an injury.'

'Come on,' Poppy says as she stands up and offers me her hand, 'I've got some plasters in the dormitory. And clothes that aren't soaked in blood.' She helps me off the table and we ascend the stairs to the girls' dorms. I sit on Poppy's bed as she rummages around.

'Are you sure there's nothing between you and James? He was kind of weird about it this morning.'

'Pretty sure. Can I ask what happened with Al, or is that none of my business because he's my friend?' She pulls herself out of her trunk and gestures for me to lift my shirt again. I don't make any jokes about this, because I seem to be developing some sort of control over my brain.

'I just… I don't know. He's not really my cup of tea.'

'But yesterday, you… oh, I see.'

'See what?' She glances up at me and withdraws her hands from my now-dressed wound.

'I thought I had better gaydar. This is quite disappointing.' Her eyes flick to mine, and they are new, different. Nervous. 'Am I the first?'

'Yeah.' She speaks quietly, before she turns to rummage through things some more, and produces a plain green t shirt.

'You want to talk about it? I've gotten incredibly good at these conversations over the years. When Arlo came out – he's one of my brothers, by the way – he told me first because he thought I had done a great job of coming out, which is hilarious, because I was, like, twelve, I just was lucky enough to come from a lefty family where fancying Misty from Pokémon in early childhood was a rite of passage.'

'I don't get it.' Poppy flung the shirt to me and turned around. 'You said yesterday that you don't fancy people you know, so are you gay, or what?'

'Not a clue. Busy and pansexual, probably. Nice to meet you.' I finish pulling the shirt over my head and poke her between the shoulder blades. When she turns back to me I offer her my hand.

'Gay, and from a pureblood family. Pleasure.' With one firm shake, Poppy's first coming out experience is over.

We sit in the dorm for a little while, discussing little things, like what celebrities brought about various stages of sexual awakening. The tide eventually turns to less fun things.

'My parents are going to freak out.'

'I don't know how this sort of thing works out, but the Greengrass's and the Zabini's were both cool, and they're pretty hard-core from what I've heard.'

'Xander and George are gay too? Both of them?'

'Yup. It's amazing I'm the straightest in a group of people, and yet…'

'Yeah, okay. But seriously, I need help with this.'

'Right, well, what I would suggest is convening the Lesbian Council of Hogwarts first, for guidance and support, and then maybe telling a different family member first. A sibling or a cool aunt or something.'

'Okay, I can do that. Not soon, though.'

'The beauty of this sort of thing is that you can take all the time you need.'

'Did you say Lesbian Council? Is that a thing?'

'Poppy, I don't know if you've noticed, but queer kids kind of clump together, to protect each other from predators and shit. Also don't ever repeat that phrase, it wasn't supposed to leave my head.'

'Sure.' We fall into a comfortable silence for a little while.

'Poppy?'

'Yeah?'

'Why have you been talking to James and Al?'

'I may have been scouting you out a bit.'

'Oh. Awesome.'

'You're welcome.' I check my watch and see the time.

'So I'll get a council meeting set up, as soon as I can, and I'll see you tomorrow. Okay?' I fling myself up and Poppy follows to retrieve the abandoned divination work. The common room is empty by now, save for a little group of fourth years absorbed in a game of chess. Poppy walks me right to the door.

'You did really well today, by the way,' I tell her, hoping that will maybe help with the next time that kind of conversation happens.

'Thanks. Good night, Eve.' Poppy Dowson leans forward and pecks me quickly on the lips before disappearing into the depths of the Slytherin common room. It's fair to say Albus will have a field day with this.


End file.
